


Our Souls Will Shine Like New

by ParadiseParrot



Series: Sanctuary [1]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Discussion of Abortion, Interfacing Discussion, M/M, Mechpreg, Mechpreg (spark-based), Sanctuary Station, Transformer Sparklings, robopreg soap opera drama hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-19 08:38:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7353784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParadiseParrot/pseuds/ParadiseParrot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cosmos has done his best to find peace on Sanctuary Station. Soundwave has done his best to help-though neither are very good at it. exRiD-based, but not particularly canon-compliant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"What was it like?" Cosmos asked.

Soundwave paused his lazy stroking of Cosmos' thigh, looking down at him in surprise. It took a few moments of that long look, something Cosmos had gotten used to, before he answered. "Carriage?"

Cosmos' visor flickered in surprise, but he nodded. "You always know what I'm going to ask."

At the berth's edge, Sonata lay curled in a ball, a thermoblanket tucked tightly around him. Laserbeak and Buzzsaw had brought him some minutes ago, when assured by Soundwave that he and Cosmos were _decent_ again. They were, of course, and Soundwave's newspark had been much too sleepy to notice anything amiss. (It had been funny, watching two little avians push a tiny mech onto the berth and arrange him so carefully, but Cosmos would never say that out loud.)

There had been no judgment from Soundwave's little cadre, not about Cosmos's night visits. Not to his face, anyway. He often found one of the birds watching him, but whether it was on Soundwave's orders or to gossip among themselves, he couldn't say. Probably a bit of both. Soundwave gave Cosmos' thigh a small squeeze, and Cosmos twitched. (If the others aboard the _Ark_ could see this...ideally, they never would.)

"Difficult," Soundwave said finally. Normally he answered much faster. "Lonely. I built the frame myself." Sonata's optics flickered online, for just a moment, before he curled up tighter, back into recharge. Soundwave's edges seemed to soften when he looked his son's way. "The blue optics were a shock." His hand reached up, to stroke Cosmos' cheek. "Maybe not to a little Autobot."

Cosmos allowed another pleasant shiver at the touch. He had learned to enjoy these nights far too much. It almost made him want to keep hiding what he'd come tonight to discuss, before Soundwave's hands had been on him and they had been...rather distracted.

"Blue is more common on our side, yes," he said. "It's one time where you just take what Primus gives you."

For all the time Soundwave spent with Sonata, the baby strapped snugly to his front, Cosmos had rarely seen him up close. The cassettes were devoted sitters when the need arose, and Cosmos hadn't seen a shred of indignation about it from any of them. Even Rumble and Frenzy, who probably needed sitters themselves, made much of the little one. For now, in his carrier's presence, the newspark made a soft sound. Sleepily, he curled his fingers.

"Do you think a newspark should know their sire?" Cosmos asked softly. Soundwave didn't stiffen—but he wanted to, Cosmos was sure. It wasn't a question Soundwave was fond of.

"You are full of prying questions, little Autobot," Soundwave said. "And, no. Not if the sire isn't worthy of their offspring." His red visor glowed very bright, still looking down at Cosmos. It was always as if Soundwave could see everything within him, without even having to think about it, and it was as unsettling as it was fascinating.

(It had to be Megatron, anyway. Sonata's sire wouldn't be some random mech—not for baring his spark, not for bringing this second, tiny spark online. It didn't explain his interest in Cosmos, but...well. Not much did.)

Soundwave's hand rested on Cosmos's chest, and he jumped. Right away Soundwave had stiffened, but he pressed a finger to Cosmos's mask firmly. "Quietly. My son sleeps."

Cosmos's spark seemed to freeze as Soundwave's fingers spread, pressing against the spark chamber they'd only just closed back up. Soundwave, ever composed, even during interfacing, even facing down the angriest and largest of his new Decepticons, was shaking, almost imperceptibly. Cosmos would not have noticed it, if not for Soundwave's fingers clattering softly against his chest.

"How long?" Soundwave murmured. At Cosmos's tilted head, he his optics pulsed a darker red. "Your carriage. How long have you guessed?"

"W-what-" Right away, Cosmos was shrinking back from Soundwave's hand. "Carriage?! What makes you think I'm carrying?"

"Your questions. Your worry." Soundwave pressed his hand down, just a fraction harder. "How your spark hums like new." He snatched his hand back suddenly, as if he'd been burned, and right away he'd hopped off the berth. Fast enough for Cosmos not to be able to rush after him, so the berth shook with the relief of pressure. Sonata made a small sound, and Cosmos's hands reached out partway, then stopped. Soundwave had never let him touch his son.

Soundwave had a scanner (medical-grade, expensive looking) pressed against Cosmos before he could say another word. "I am a not a doctor," he said, his words suddenly a rush, "and neither are you. But this scanner—this one found Sonata, and it will find—ah. There."

Cosmos felt his tanks churn. Not that Soundwave gave him much time to stew on his feelings, as he pulled Cosmos close and pressed his audial against his chest.

"Yes, there they are," Soundwave said, voice suddenly very soft. Cosmos seemed frozen to the berth. "I hear you. I hear you, little one."

"Soundwave-" Cosmos began. He finally paused, looking up slowly. "I was going to say...that I _thought_ I might be carrying. Because it's yours—of course it's yours, who else would I be interfacing with?" He laughed out the last part, on the edge of hysterical. The whole situation _was_ hysterical. "So you had to know. What should we do?"

"Prepare, of course," Soundwave said. Again, he spread his fingers out over Cosmos's chestplate. "The frame cannot be standard, of course—a mech your size will produce a very small spark. There is the matter of expenses, care..." He seemed to regard Cosmos carefully. "What else would we do?"

He was speaking so much. Normally Soundwave was so careful with his words, as careful as he was in all things, but something had stirred in him to make him think less straight. With Sonata, maybe he hadn't been able to share that excitement. Cosmos sat up, leaning against the wall.

"I was only thinking...I don't have a lot of experience with this," Cosmos said. "Most people don't, though _you_ do, which is lucky, and..."

"I learned," Soundwave said softly. His hand reached up, to tip Cosmos's face towards Soundwave's. "You will too. And," he added, gesturing to the newspark still peacefully recharging, "you have an example to learn from."

Cosmos hadn't thought he even had the right to come near Sonata—no one else did. His visor dimmed, and right away Soundwave had moved closer.

"I will not terminate," Soundwave said suddenly. Cosmos nearly jumped. How had he _known-_

"I plead with you," Soundwave said, pressing his palm again to Cosmos's chest. "Do not leave. Not to do such a thing. We value life, here on Sanctuary. Decepticons value life. Whatever the Autobots may have taught you, Cosmos, I promise you that."

He hung his head, suddenly ashamed. Carriages happened, of course. Rarely, but the medics had all done their share of terminations. If an Autobot wished, badly, to keep their offspring, they were taken aside and _encouraged_ to end it before it was impossible. Wars were no place for sparklets, especially when most didn't know a thing about them anyway. A few chose neutral worlds instead, with mechanical races that raised their own offspring. Cosmos was unsure of what happened to the rest.

Those were all stories, anyway. He had never met a carrier, not before all this. Cosmos brought his small hand up to cover Soundwave's.

"It's only that..." Cosmos began, clearing his vocalizer to find the words. "It's only that I thought you might not want another sparklet here on Sanctuary. With Sonata so young, and me being a little Autobot."

Soundwave was silent. After his excitable state only moments before, Cosmos felt a sharp, sudden wave of sick terror. Maybe implying that he wouldn't want his own offspring was the ultimate insult—oh, Primus, especially after Sonata's obvious lack of a sire.

Instead, both of Soundwave's hands rested on Cosmos's face. He nearly squeaked as Soundwave came forward, to press their helms gently together.

"I have spent a long time causing things to fall apart," Soundwave said softly. Cosmos felt frozen. "Far from the Decepticon way. I am trying to recreate that here, in this peaceful place, but...to create life, little Autobot. It helps."

Maybe Cosmos should have expected this. Spending time with Soundwave had caused him to start planning for the unexpected, for the character who lurked under Soundwave's exterior. The mech had more surprises than cassettes (there were more than the handful here, on missions or long gone), so he ought to have just tacked this up with them.

He would have answered, but for one of Sonata's small sounds turning into a cry. Right away Soundwave sat up, and had turned to pull the fussing, wriggling newspark into his arms. He always treated his son with great gentleness—something necessary for such thin, easily bruised plating, but another of Soundwave's arsenal of surprises nonetheless. _Gentle_ and _Soundwave_ were not words that went together in your average Cybertronian's processor.

"'m tired," Sonata mumbled, once he had been settled. Cosmos leaned forward in surprise. He had seen Sonata toddle (from Buzzsaw, to Laserbeak, then to Soundwave's leg), but not yet heard him speak.

"Then you must recharge," Soundwave replied, a tinge of amusement in his voice. "We are doing the same."

Sonata's wide blue optics gave Cosmos one look, before he turned towards Soundwave's chestplate. He hiccuped out another sob, as if being awake was the worst thing he'd ever been through, and Cosmos suppressed a laugh. They were funny, babies. Even from a distance you noticed.

When Soundwave dimmed the lights all the way down, and settled in, he pulled Cosmos in against him. Cosmos didn't protest, though he was surprised. If Sonata was recharging here too, he normally bid Soundwave goodnight and hightailed it out, and had never heard protests about it. Perhaps being a carrier too made things different. The word _family_ crossed Cosmos's mind, and he swiftly stamped it out.

"Goodnight, Cosmos," Soundwave said softly. Cosmos shivered—he was so more used to _little Autobot_ by now. "I rise early, but you ought to sleep late."

Would he expect him to babysit Sonata? Probably not—if Soundwave didn't have him, a cassette did. He had never been this close to the sparklet, close enough that Sonata's little shoulder brushed Cosmos's arm.

It would do him and the spark no good to dwell. Recharge, he told himself. It'll be easier tomorrow.

That was a comforting lie, but it wouldn't help him sleep. Not tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time has passed aboard Sanctuary Station, and Cosmos is getting close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It turns out that this ship is incredibly inspirational, and you know what that means! More hot fresh sparkpreg, right off the presses. Some scenes depicting a lot of pain contained within, so if that bothers you tread lightly. Enjoy!

Cosmos rolled over, into the warm place Soundwave had left behind on the berth. Rolling over had never been particularly easy, for a mech shaped like he was, but with how the newspark had changed his systems...well, he hadn't expected it to become a mighty task.

"How does no one ever talk about how you get all heavy?" he said, reaching for the kicked-away thermoblanket. His hand rested on his hip, somehow rounder than it had been months before. "I was already round, you know. I've never minded, but this," he patted the offending hip, "is ridiculous."

Soundwave paused. He tilted his head, in a way Cosmos had learned meant amusement, and reached out to cover Cosmos's hand with his own. "You are small," he said. "The extra energy the newspark requires bloats the protoform. Brings out the armour. It was not noticeable with me."

"'Course not," Cosmos muttered. He dimmed his optics, shifting to try and get comfortable. "Primus forbid important mechs like you get _fat._ "

Soundwave's hand slid over Cosmos's hip, over his waist and towards his chestplates. "I rather like you this way," he said. Before this, all this, he had never considered Soundwave as _mischievous._ "The roundness is pleasing."

"Stop that," Cosmos said, pushing Soundwave's hand away. He couldn't keep the smile from his voice. "Go and meet with your Decepticons."

Cosmos made a mental note to tell Laserbeak about this—she loved extra fodder to tease Soundwave with. Later, though, or even tomorrow. Since the carriage had begun, he had found himself with either Laserbeak or Buzzsaw as a companion outside these rooms. At first he'd been annoyed with being watched. Laserbeak, more accommodating, had finally explained that this was for Cosmos's protection, to watch after him and the newspark when Soundwave could not. Most on Sanctuary weren't particularly pleased about the whole business—especially now that everyone knew Cosmos was carrying. His safety, he'd been assured, was paramount. His _and_ the spark's.

Soundwave leaned down, to rest his mask briefly against Cosmos's chest. "I hear their spark hum," he said. "It drums in my audials. You are close."

"I should hope so," Cosmos said, though the thought made his own spark jump. He shifted uncomfortably. "I feel like a balloon."

From the next room, Sonata's small voice was calling. The adjacent hab suite had only been used for more than storage when Cosmos had moved in permanently. Sonata had been excited enough about his own berth—until late at night, when nightmares often brought him back anyway.

"Soundwave!" he called. Cosmos could hear the tapping of his little feet as he bounced. "Cosmos! I'm awake!"

Buzzsaw's low voice quieted him, and the sleepy rustles of him and Laserbeak announced they were awake, too. Sonata had no shortage of comfort at night. Before the carriage had gotten so far, even Cosmos had begun to get to know him. (A bright, serious little mech, who learned words fast and caught onto concepts faster. He wondered if his own would be like that.)

"Patience, starsong," Soundwave said, over his shoulder. The nickname for his son was so sweet that Cosmos sometimes didn't think he was hearing it. "You must learn it." He gave Cosmos's thigh one more firm stroke. "You must comm if you need anything this time. The spark is close to splitting off."

"It doesn't feel that way," Cosmos said, optics already offline. He could hear the hum of his offspring in his own audials sometimes, but his spark felt as normal. "I don't want to bother you. Unless you're _finally_ showing me that frame you promised."

"You will see it in good time." Soundwave slipped inside Sonata's room, shutting the light back off as he did. Soundwave had built Sonata's frame, but Cosmos had yet to see his own offspring. Laserbeak assured him that he would like it, but that didn't quell the anticipation in his spark _._

Or the fear. Even as he drifted off, he remembered their conspicuous lack of a medic, their isolation. Soundwave had promised to send for one over the new spacebridge, should there be problems, but what if the thing malfunctioned, or they couldn't make it in time? He wondered, yet again, what he had agreed to. Thought about the burden on Soundwave, with the exhausting hours he worked caring for the station and for Sonata. How he still eked out time to build a little frame. (How he had delivered his own newspark, Primus help him.)

Both hands over his spark chamber, Cosmos slept.

* * *

He dreamed fitfully. They were confusing and frightening, filled with Decepticons leaving his carrying frame adrift and without fuel, with Soundwave refusing to answer his comms for help. When he woke up with spark pain, he chalked it up to the dreams—it had happened before. He rolled over, and wondered sleepily what D.O.C was doing back home. His arms crossed tightly over his chest, he lay on his front.

The pain didn't lessen. His chronometer said that almost an hour had passed, and the throbbing had only gotten worse, as if it were pressing down against his spark chamber. Exhausted, Cosmos didn't register it. Being curled in on his front helped some, until the pain seemed to bump up and he groaned through his teeth.

He started to open the comm, to call Soundwave. And stopped.

It was the middle of the day, when Soundwave was sitting with his Decepticons, hearing their problems aboard the station and working out what could be done to help. He would be back in a few hours, and if a medic needed to be brought, they would send for one. Who's to say it wasn't false splitting, or regular old spark pain?

Fifteen minutes of this and he had changed his mind. The ache had become a squeezing, terrible grip, and he needed Soundwave, needed his help, needed-

A wave of pain hit him. And he blacked out.

* * *

Someone's hands were on him, and he cried out. All of his plating felt as if it were on fire, but his spark burned hottest, like it would melt its very chamber.

"Cosmos!" a voice said, rough with fright. The hands were on his chest now. "Cosmos, why didn't you call me?!"

"I told you," another voice, smaller, said. "I told you he should have been watched, he-"

"Shut up!" snapped the other voice. "Now is not the time."

"Where is Soundwave?" Cosmos tried to say, though it only came out as a moan. He slumped back.

* * *

Soundwave. It must have been Soundwave.

How could he have been so stupid? Who else aboard Sanctuary would bother to come here, especially with his carriage, and how Soundwave had so many locks on his suite...

He groaned, and found a hand on his forehead. His vision wavered, but he could make out a shape.

"Lie still, little Autobot," Soundwave said. "It will be alright. I am here."

He bent down then, and the pain burst outward. Cosmos screamed.

* * *

The room was quiet now. Cosmos, absently, wondered if he was dead.

A murmuring nearby told him that, no, he probably wasn't. He tried to stretch, and a firm bump against his shoulder gave him pause.

_Stop that,_ Laserbeak scolded over the comm. _Your spark's still shaken. Lie still._

Cosmos obeyed, and lay back, optics slowing onlining. It was still dark in the room, but he felt as if he was weighted to the floor, not a being with optics that could be brought to full brightness. To his side, he saw Laserbeak's bright, red optic, and registered that his spark chamber was cracked open. The pain had settled into a dull ache, and the release of pressure seemed to have helped.

The next thing that hit him was the sharp, urgent pull at his spark, something that made his hands twitch and reach out. Not a moment later, he heard a weak, tiny cry, and the pull became a _tug._ His optics onlined fully.

He was lying against the berth's side (when had he ended up on the floor?) propped up just enough to see. Laserbeak sat on one side, her wings twitching with concern, and Soundwave's large figure sat cross-legged on the other. He was bent over something, his visor almost white in its brightness.

"Soundwave," Cosmos said. His voice was hoarse. Right away he turned, and the tug at Cosmos's spark pulled again. He heard that little cry, louder now.

And it hit him.

He tried to sit up, but was stopped by a hand on his chest. The ache went sharp for a minute, before it passed into something manageable, and he sighed, already beaten. Soundwave's hand reached up to cup his face.

"Leave us," he said to Laserbeak, who seemed relieved by the dismissal. She flew off, the door opening and closing right away at her presence. Soundwave leaned forward.

"Why didn't you call me?" he asked. Cosmos had never heard his voice hoarse before. The voice that, modulator off, got the last of the Decepticons to follow him to Sanctuary.

"I knew you were busy today," Cosmos said weakly, shame burning his faceplates. "I didn't...I did want to, after awhile, but then it hurt. It hurt so much." He blinked his optics, slowly. "Is he...?"

Soundwave looked down, and Cosmos followed his gaze. His vents hitched, because in the palm of Soundwave's hand was the smallest creature he'd ever seen.

That was an exaggeration—Cosmos had met organics before. But among _Cybertronians—_ his son (how did he know something like that, that they were his _son_?) curled tiny, delicate fists close to a green faceplate. His optics were wide and blue, and Cosmos found himself pleased—blue like his. Primus, blue like Sonata's, because this child had a brother. This child was alive, its tiny spark pulsing out towards his carrier's.

"His spark must grow into his frame," Soundwave said, looking down again. His voice had a gentle cast, the kind he used to rock Sonata to sleep. "We must be gentle. I should have made it smaller."

Cosmos could not imagine him any smaller. He finally reached out a hand, fully, to brush against the newspark's cheek. His son's optics went wide and bright as they registered him, and reached right away for his finger. Cosmos sighed, long and shaky. He hadn't realized he'd been holding back that vent, and leaned his head against the berth in relief.

"I'm sorry," he breathed out. He leaned into Soundwave's other hand. "I should have called you. I put him at risk."

Soundwave was quiet for a moment, stroking Cosmos's cheek, and he wondered if the guilt was welling just as much in his spark as it did in his own.

"I am sending for a doctor," he said finally. "It was foolish of me to do all this myself. Even if all is well in the end."

Cosmos could argue about this later. How it was his fault, too, and if he had been less trusting, and set on a real, experienced medic, he could have taken himself back to the Autobots. Why hadn't he? Soundwave was a genius, but no doctor. He wondered, briefly, if the frame would had flaws. Someone from Cosmos's hot spot had had a loose spark chamber, and they had only found out three weeks later when he collapsed and went grey.

No, he told himself. No, Soundwave didn't do things half-welded. If he had taken it upon himself to build their newspark's frame, he had done it right.

Soundwave seemed to notice he was lost in thought, as he always did. With great gentleness, he sat Cosmos up more fully. When he set the newspark against his chestplate, the pain seemed to snap out of existence so there was only that bond—something Soundwave had spoken often of, but Cosmos had thought little of in his exhaustion and his worries.

His son was small—but small was good. "Small" was something Cosmos could cradle, this little round creature who clung to him. Who needed him now, more than when they had shared a spark. Under his mask, he smiled. "He looks like Sonata."

Soundwave reached down, resting his hand under the newspark's head. "That was subconscious," he said. "I did, however, add the green for you."

Cosmos didn't mention that their son was still mostly blue, like Sonata, and Soundwave himself. Still, there was only so much paint could do. Colours came to life with the spark, and he supposed that this spark had just liked blue.

"I have no idea what to do now," Cosmos said softly, wonderingly. Soundwave actually chuckled.

"They ask for little at first," he said. "Only your love—if you believe a Decepticon can feel such things. I know, little Autobot, that you have much of that for him."

"I think so," Cosmos said weakly. Their newspark made a soft sound, his fingers curling tightly around one of his own.

They were both alive, and all was well. Aboard a Decepticon station, in an alien solar system just past a tiny blue planet, full of suspicious organics. He realized, after a moment, that he really didn't mind. The stars had always kept him safe. He was sure they could extend their welcome, just a bit.

**Author's Note:**

> If you clicked on this, congratulations, this is what I like to call "rarepair hell" and it is a warm place without shame. I hope you enjoyed this short piece-will probably not add more, but it was a nice thing to write about the world's silliest exRiD ship.


End file.
